


I stood outside your dorm for hours

by wincestgoddess



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Feels, Dean Winchester-centric, F/M, Heartbroken Dean Winchester, M/M, Soft Dean Winchester, Stanford Era (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:28:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28147614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wincestgoddess/pseuds/wincestgoddess
Summary: Dean visited Sam just once before their Dad went missing, before he got him at Stanford.One hopeful visit doesn't mend a broken heart.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester
Comments: 11
Kudos: 55





	I stood outside your dorm for hours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Freckles_And_Dimples](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freckles_And_Dimples/gifts).



“Excuse me.”

“Oh, uh, sorry.”

Moving out of the way, Dean scratched the back of his neck and pointedly ignored the confused look the girl sent him as he finally stepped aside and let her pass. 

Painfully aware now that he was blocking the stairwell, he sighed and briefly thought about throwing away his precious cargo, pretend he never made this unnecessary pit stop and haul ass back to the Impala.

“Sorry, man.”

Startled out of his thoughts, Dean sneered at the drunk college kid that pushed past him. 

Is this what Sam had chosen instead of his own family? A bunch of drunk college kids and girls that wore miniskirts and were judgmental to perfectly nice strangers just minding their own business?

Okay, maybe he stood out like a sore thumb here, what with his leather jacket, still sporting miniscule drops of blood that only a hunter could point out. Only someone alert. Someone like Sam, the little brother he’d come to visit in the middle of the fucking night. 

What the hell was he thinking? One mere look at the steps he had to take to make it to Sam’s dorm were enough to send him spiraling.

Those steps were scarier than the poltergeist he’d tangoed with earlier that day.

Hell, facing his brother felt scarier than any monster Dean had ever encountered. Because spooks meant nothing to him. The sons of bitches were evil and Dean’s job was to stop them. But Sam? Sam didn’t set out to haunt him, wasn’t his intention to harm Dean.

And yet, he still did. Still toyed with Dean’s heart for years, still whispered sweet nothings into Dean’s ear, and despite the mocking and the grumbling, Dean relished in those words. Words of adoration, of devotion, of _love._

Sam took Dean’s heart for a test drive and didn’t return it intact. No, instead he’d stomped on it that fateful night. A heart once well taken care of, reduced to nothing but broken pieces littering the pavement in front of a meaningless motel. 

Sam never discussed it with him. He never once, after both of them were sated and sweaty in bed, confessed his big college plans. 

Maybe Dean should’ve been smarter; he should’ve picked up on the signs, should’ve paid more attention to the spiteful words exchanged in all those fights between Sam and John he’d had to break. He should’ve _listened._

All that time chalking it up to teenage angst, ignoring the whisper in his brain that told him there could be more to it. This was Sam. This was his dimpled, shaggy-haired boy and Dean should’ve talked to him. Made him feel less alone, maybe. Understood. But like he tends to do, Dean fucked that up too. 

Sam still left in the end. Sam dropped the bomb one night, grabbed his stuff and didn’t look back. Didn’t look back just in time to witness the clench of Dean’s jaw, the quiet exhale of shock, the unfiltered devastation in his eyes. 

Half of his heart broken, the other walked out of his life that night. 

Memories haunted him. Regrets plagued his fruitless, sleepless nights. If only he’d said something, maybe stand up to John more. But fuck, Sammy was always stronger than him, always fierce and brave when facing their father. Dean? Dean was a blunt instrument for John to shape and mold and use in whichever way he wanted. 

Maybe that’s also why Sam left. On the road, he settled with Dean but here? Thriving in California, flourishing in the normal life he’d always craved? Here, Sam could find someone else, someone better. Someone that wasn’t burdened. Someone that wasn’t his brother.

Swallowing back the sudden bile that he could feel rising up his throat, Dean looked down at the item he now realized he’d been holding way too tightly. Hopefully it wouldn’t fall apart as soon as it was in Sam’s hands. 

Dean imagined they would have softened by now. No longer calloused, not like his own. They should be soft and smooth now. Slender fingers. Those same fingers that used to tiptoe their way down his spine, only to press ever so slightly, enough to make Dean sigh. 

He ached at the simple thought of fitting his hand in Sam’s once more, of their fingers lacing together. His chest felt smaller, tighter and Dean wondered when did he become such a fucking _girl_ that just thinking of holding someone’s hand could cause such a reaction. 

Not just someone. Sam. Sammy had always been the exception to each and every one of his rules.

“Okay, Dean. You can do this. Fuck, it’s just your geeky little brother. You changed his fucking diapers and you will not be intimidated by him.”

A pair of giggling girls walked past him, one of them pointed at him discreetly. Maybe he shouldn’t be talking out loud like some kind of crazy hobo but on the other hand, Susan or whatever the hippie chick’s name was should also mind her own fucking business. 

Deep breaths. 

Smoothing down the petals, Dean took the first few steps. As if it made a fucking difference. Flowers were flowers and Sam, girly as he was, would like them anyway. Except for roses. Because Sam thought they were cliché. 

Dean knew fuck all about flowers. But the girl who’d made the bouquet had assured him the mix of flowers she’d created were not at all cliché and ‘much lovelier’ than roses. Dean had to admit, it didn’t look half bad. It was a burst of colors but they all complimented each other. 

Sam would appreciate it. Sure, he’d tease him till the end of times but Dean realized he was okay with that. As long as he took it, as long as he opened the door and let Dean come inside. Let Dean see him just one more time before he had to meet back up with John.

He should’ve washed the blood off his jacket. Damn it, too late for that now. 

Right outside of Sam’s dorm now, Dean prepared to knock. 

A light turned on, the blinds to the window that overlooked the tiny kitchen were suddenly gone and in a flash so was Dean. Angling himself so Sam couldn’t, wouldn’t see him unless he was really looking, Dean frowned when he heard a feminine laugh. 

“You really have to go?”

Dean’s heart skipped a beat. That was undoubtedly his brother’s voice.

“Baby, I promised Chrissie a girls’ night out. We can do date night tomorrow.”

“Chinese and a movie?”

“You sure know the way to my heart, Sam.”

“I try, Jess.”

A wet sound. Dean will forever regret the choice he made when he peeked; because there he was. Hair a little longer, skin a little tanned but it was him. The very same boy that had kissed Dean all those years ago, that refused to take the brunt of rejection because he knew Dean wanted him the very same way. The boy who grew up with fireworks, with sweet chaste kisses and bruising ones at night under the covers of a motel bed. 

Sam; whose hands had once cupped Dean’s face the same way in which they were now cupping _hers._

Sam had called her Jess; and she had called him baby. 

_Baby boy_

It was an echo of the past that broke him out of his trance. Not sure he could swallow the bile this time, Dean didn’t think. He dropped the flowers, crushed them under his boots as he did what he should’ve done since the beginning: haul ass out of there. 

What was he thinking? This wasn’t his life. This wasn’t his story and this wasn’t his Sam anymore. This was someone who walked away from him, someone who now had a normal girlfriend between his arms. _Dean_ wasn’t in Sam’s story anymore. He’d been replaced. He’d been...and he loathed to think so but maybe he’d even been forgotten. 

Sam would always be in his, though. Sam was inked into his very fucking soul and as much as Dean could try and screw every woman of every town he passed, they would never wash him away. They would never take his place in Dean’s battered, incomplete heart. 

That first kiss had doomed him for eternity. And now, his sorry self was just reaping what he’d sown long ago. 

Dean Winchester drove away that night missing a couple of bucks and missing the life he could’ve had in an alternate reality. Wanted to have. A life next to Sam. He drove away that night and right into the bottle. He put Palo Alto in his rearview mirror and unlike Sam, he did look back. Because he couldn’t stop himself. Because he was weak. 

He wasn’t there to witness Sam walking Jessica out the door. Didn’t see his brother stare at the ruined bouquet of white chrysanthemums, violet bellflowers and orange lilies. 

He didn’t hear Jessica’s confused questions and wasn’t the one who pressed delicate fingers over his jaw, felt the hammering of his heart and saw the way his eyes frantically searched for someone that wasn’t there anymore. Someone who had never been written off the story; just as inked in his dimpled boy’s soul. 

Dean didn’t see Sam pick up the bouquet after he’d sent Jessica away, assured her he was fine and it had probably been some creep that wanted to ask her out. 

Dry petals would decorate Sam’s bottom, secret drawer until his brother showed up like a shadow in the night, stating the fatidic words that would change his life forever:

“Dad’s on a hunting trip and he hasn’t been home in a few days.” 

**Author's Note:**

> this is for you, Freckles_And_Dimples, thank you for the prompt and making me wanna write this, I hope it gives you all the feels and you like it! 😘
> 
> flower notes: white chrysanthemums symbolize loyal love, bellflowers represent unwavering love and orange lilies, desire.


End file.
